


Finding Home

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, M/M, intense grief, it gets better at the end i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which everything falls apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Jeongguk looked at Yoongi, spread out on the stairs, bleeding from the mouth and nose and knew this wasn't how it was supposed to be, this wasn't how the two of them were meant to exist. What were they fighting about? Yoongi was drunk, he always got belligerent and mean when he drank amber liquors and Jeongguk would kick the ass of whoever the fuck had given that shit to him, as soon as he found them.

He pushed away from the couch, where he'd fallen to the floor when Yoongi shoved him. He stepped around the shattered glass of the mirror and stalked out of the basement apartment, leaving Yoongi on the stairs, unconscious, looking frail. Fucking jackass. If there was any justice in the world he'd wake up with a killer hangover and a sore back and he'd deserve it.

Jeongguk kind of hated himself for thinking things like that. He didn't want Yoongi to hurt but sometimes he thought he kind of deserved for shit to hurt because he was always just so fucking lucky, he was always just this side of being completely fucked that maybe he _should_ get completely fucked once in a while, just to join the rest of the mortals. 

He walked along the street, hands in his hoodie pockets. Maybe he'd go visit Seokjin. Seokjin's gravestone wasn't that long a walk away. He'd been gone two years now. Two years of Namjoon pulling away, two years of Jimin and Taehyung not speaking to one another. One year since Hoseok had joined Seokjin in the graveyard, laid out beside him just like he'd always wanted. It was just... It wasn't supposed to happen so soon.

He hunched his shoulders as a group of young men walked his way. He didn't want to deal with any shit. Dealing with Yoongi falling apart was shit enough.

~

Jimin stared down at Jeongguk's body on the cold steel table and nodded, feeling numb. “That's Jeongguk,” he said, his voice sounding strangled as he realized that someone had to tell Namjoon, someone had to tell _Yoongi._ Jeongguk's skin was too pale, his lips too blue, and Jimin realized he'd have to be the one to tell Yoongi that Jeongguk was dead, that he'd apparently had the shit beat out of him and then been hit by a car. It was incredible, how _whole_ he looked. His neck had snapped, the mortician said. Instant death. He hadn't felt a thing but his body was covered in bruises, his jaw swollen and his lips bloody at the corners, his ribs were broken, his left hand had been crushed. He might not have felt it when he died, but he'd hurt so much before that.

Jimin swallowed hard and felt himself crying.

He called Taehyung first.

~

Taehyung went to the hospital to find Jimin after calling Namjoon. Jimin was curled up in a chair, hugging himself and sobbing wretchedly into his knees,  _it's not fair, it's not fair_ and it wasn't, but there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do because Jeongguk was gone. He was gone. 

Taehyung gathered Jimin into his arms and he led him out of the hospital to Namjoon's truck. It was Seokjin's truck, once. The polaroid of the seven of them at the beach was still taped to the dashboard. Namjoon didn't say anything. Silent as a statue, he put the truck in gear and started towards the basement apartment where Yoongi was just starting to wake up, swallowing down bloody saliva and feeling something in his gut wrench. Something was wrong. It was too quiet.

Something was wrong.

~

Something was wrong and it was made more wrong by the face that Jimin, Taehyung and Namjoon were all standing in the mess of the apartment he shared with Jeongguk like this was some kind of intervention and _fuck_ his head was pounding and he was so sore, everything hurt and he had a nasty lump on the back of his head where he'd smacked it into the stairs the night before.

“What is this,” he asked, venomous. Jimin looked like he was going to start crying and Namjoon had subtly moved towards the door, the only way out, and placed himself in front of it. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Yoongi,” Jimin said, his voice broken and Yoongi was about to tear him up—how dare he drop the fucking honorifics just because they hadn't seen one another in months—but then his belly started to tense and his shoulders were hunching up defensively because Jimin was trying to keep from _sobbing_ as he stood there.

“...Where's Jeongguk,” Yoongi asked into the enclosed air, and no one answered him. “ _Where is Jeongguk.”_ He'd always been the type to arrive at the worst possible conclusion first, but that wasn't always the correct one, it wasn't always but—

Yoongi looked over at Namjoon and felt his breath starting to shorten. 

“Where's Jeonggukkie?” he heard himself ask, and Namjoon—Kim Namjoon, made of ice and steel, looked away. He  _ looked away  _ and Yoongi staggered despite himself, fell backwards to the stairs and landed wrong on his wrist but—but Namjoon hadn't answered him. “Where's Jeongguk?” he whispered out into the room, his eyes suddenly wet and his cheeks wet and his teeth buried hard in his bottom lip as Jimin finally managed to  _ speak-- _

“He's gone, hyung,” Jimin cried, one fist at his side and the other rubbing at his eyes.  _ Gone  _ had a strange finality. He wasn't in the hospital. He wasn't in an ambulance somewhere, he wasn't visiting his estranged parents, he was  _ gone.  _

He was gone, like Seokjin was gone, like Hoseok was gone, and Yoongi got up but didn't feel himself get up, walked on air towards the door where Namjoon stood, with apparently no intention of letting him through. 

“Get the fuck out of my way, Kim Namjoon.”

“No.”

Yoongi threw a punch and Namjoon ducked, grabbed his wrist and yanked, jerked him around until he could grab his wrist with his other hand and brace Yoongi's weight on his hip, pinning him to his side with his arms crossed over his torso, screaming, thrashing, beyond hysterical. 

“Let go of me! Let go of me right fucking now, Kim Namjoon,  _ let go— _ I have to, I have to  _ go,  _ I can't--” But Namjoon said nothing, just tightened his fists around Yoongi's thin wrists. His bones were grinding together and he couldn't get loose, Namjoon had always been stronger but Yoongi had never hated him so much for it as he did in that moment, 

“Let go, let go of me Namjoon please, please--” Yoongi was starting to fall to the floor and Namjoon made sure he didn't hit it too hard, though he still didn't let go. Yoongi felt like the entire world was crashing down around him. He didn't want to be here. What had he said to Jeongguk last night, what had he said, what were they arguing about, he'd been too drunk to remember, oh  _ god  _ what had he  _ said-- _

_ It's my fault.  _

The thought struck like a belt to the face and all the fight left Yoongi like smoke. He slumped and stared at the floor, his eyes itching and his breathing hard. He'd yelled at him last night. He'd yelled at Jeongguk, about Seokjin, about Hoseok, and he couldn't remember much except for Jeongguk's arms wrapped around his shoulders and  _ I lost them too, hyung  _ and oh god he'd shoved him, he'd shoved him and he'd fallen--

Someone was sobbing, but it wasn't Yoongi. Someone was gasping, heaving breaths like they were dying but it couldn't have been Yoongi. Yoongi didn't cry. Not even when he'd broken his arm, not even when they'd buried Seokjin, buried  _ Hoseok-- _

And now they were going to bury Jeongguk--

Someone was coughing, choking, hyperventilating. The sounds were muffled against a strong chest and Namjoon let go of Yoongi's wrists. His hands fell to the floor but someone was holding his neck, someone was cradling his head so it wouldn't fall off his shaking shoulders and roll away, even if he wanted it to. What he wouldn't give to be separated from his body right then. 

“No,” he cried, the word ugly and shredded up his throat. “No, no no this isn't, this can't, no, please don't do this to me,  _ please don't do this to me.  _ It's not funny, it's not—I want Jeongguk, where is Jeongguk please, please this isn't funny anymore--”

Yoongi felt Jimin squeeze him and a tiny, pathetic noise bubbled up out of his mouth,

“I want Jeonggukkie,” he said, and Jimin sobbed wretchedly into his shoulder. 

“I'm sorry, hyung,” he said, crying like he cried last year, two years ago, why was this happening, but Yoongi couldn't hug his shoulders now. Couldn't reassure him because—because Jeongguk was gone.

Jeongguk was gone.

~

Everything was happening on the other side of a pane of glass. Yoongi watched it all happen but didn't participate. He watched the funeral. Watched the eviction notice on the door, watched himself touch the pillow beside him on the motel bed but he didn't  _ do  _ any of those things. He heard himself lie to Jimin, he heard himself lie to Namjoon but by the time the two of them had figured out he'd been lying, he'd be gone. 

Gasoline wasn't expensive. Gasoline wasn't expensive, and Yoongi had made sure he was on the top floor of the shitty motel, in a corner room. Pricier, but it didn't matter. What was he going to do with money now, anyway? He'd mailed everything he had that was worth anything that morning, sent it to Jimin in a cardboard box without a letter, without a return address. 

Gasoline wasn't expensive, and the smell of it was overpowering in the small space. Yoongi was dizzy, his breath coming fast. He'd swallowed some pills and chased them with whiskey and he was  _ dizzy,  _ felt weak as he clicked the zippo on and threw it to the carpet in the corner of the room. He tucked himself down into the bed and closed his eyes. 

~

“Hey.  _ Hey,  _ hyung, wake up. Wake up.”

He blinked open his eyes and squinted up into the face of his lover,  _ his lover,  _ ohgod--

“Jeongguk--”

“Hey,” he said, dropping to his knees even as Yoongi sat up and clutched him, fisted his hands in the hoodie he'd been wearing when-- “Hey, hyung.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, eyes wide and bright as he stared over Jeongguk's shoulder and out into the white vastness beyond. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry Jeonggkkie it's my fault, it's my  _ fault-- _ ” 

“Shh,” Jeongguk murmured, rubbing his hand up and down Yoongi's back. He was only wearing a t-shirt and ripped jeans, he was so cold but Jeongguk was  _ warm,  _ and he felt so good, so alive against his chest that he didn't care, he didn't care how much everything hurt, how cold he was. “Shh, hyung. Come on, let's go.” Jeongguk stood and Yoongi stood with him, staggering, bare-footed. 

For a long while they walked in silence and Yoongi held Jeongguk's hand like he hadn't since Jeongguk was still in high school, all of three years ago. It had been so good then, the two of them. They'd been so happy. But then the truck accident, and...

“Hey! Hey Min Yoongi!” 

Yoongi blinked, looked off to his left and gasped as someone warm, big, and vibrating with happiness ran directly into him. Long arms looped around his waist were probably the only thing keeping him from falling over into the... Whiteness. 

“Min Yoongi, you sour brat, there you are!” 

“Hoseok?” 

“Put him  _ down,  _ idiot,” 

“...hyung?”

Hoseok put Yoongi down with a pout, but stayed close, and there, there in front of him was Kim Seokjin, with his perfect smile and his perfect eyes and his stupid, hideous pink sweater, his hands reaching out to smooth and tuck back Yoongi's hair. 

“There,” he said softly. “That wasn't so bad, was it?” he asked, and Yoongi squeezed Jeongguk's hand as he crumpled to his knees. 

“Hyung.”

“Oh, oh shh, careful,” Seokjin murmured, kneeling in front of him and smiling. “Come on. Let's go home, okay?”

Home. Home, right. 

Materializing from nowhere was the house Seokjin and Hoseok once shared, and the door was flying open and there was Kim Taehyung, laughing, throwing himself at Jeongguk and Park Jimin was right behind him and standing in the doorway was Kim Namjoon, sucking on a lollypop and looking very unimpressed, the fine lines around his eyes wrinkled with the effort of Not Smiling. 

“You're late,” he said, cocking an eyebrow imperiously, and Seokjin laughed. God, he laughed and Yoongi  _ ached  _ with it. He'd been so sure he was never going to hear that voice again. Any of these voices. 

“He got lost,” Seokjin said, and Jeongguk nodded. 

“Hyung can't get anywhere without me.”

“Ain't that the truth,” Taehyung pipped, and Yoongi reached out to smack him across the back of the head out of habit, more than anything else. He seemed faster than usual, ducking out of the way and sticking his tongue out at Yoongi. “Don't be mad cos it's true, hyung~”

Yoongi didn't believe in life after death, not really. Even now it all felt like some kind of strange fever-dream but if it was a dream then he wanted to stay there, because his heart didn't feel like it had been ripped out of him, because his brain didn't feel like it was full of fog and ice, because the cup Hoseok offered him was full of lemonade instead of bourbon and Jeongguk's hand was warm in his. 

The two of them were alone, eventually. 

Somehow, the other filtered away and the two of them were left alone in the living room, which looked like their basement apartment, only the mirror wasn't broken and the stairs led up into a well-lighted place. Jeongguk was looking at him and Yoongi swallowed hard. 

“Jeonggukkie,” he said, and Jeongguk smiled at him. 

“Mm?”

“I'm sorry,” he started. “I'm sorry, for. For drinking, for what I said. For being so—so fucking  _ awful  _ all the time.” Jeongguk didn't stop smiling, even as he reached an arm around Yoongi's shoulders and kissed him softly on the cheek. 

“You don't deserve me,” he said, looking up at the ceiling and giggling to himself when he looked back down into Yoongi's face. “But I don't stay with you cos I think you deserve me, hyung. I stay with you because I love you.”

“I love you,” Yoongi said, whispered, because there was nothing to lose now. Everything had already been lost, and what were the words going to harm? He'd never said them, before. He'd hated them, thought they made him weak and fragile but now... Now he just. Meant them. 

“I know.” Jeongguk touched him gently on the nose. “That's why you're here. That's how I found you. I mean, I know you think you're a badass, hyung, but. You're kind of... soft. I knew if I waited long enough, you'd come around.”

“Come around?”

“We've been waiting,” Jeongguk said. “It's... been a long time. But you're here. So... It doesn't matter.”

Yoongi wanted to know what that meant. He wanted to  _ know  _ and at the same time he didn't. He was here. With his friends, with his  _ family,  _ and that. That was enough. It was all he'd ever wanted, everything he'd ever regretted not having. Here it was. He'd been found. 

“I'm home,” he said, and Jeongguk laughed, kissed the corner of his mouth. 

“Welcome home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> this entire thing is based on a dream i had last night. that's what i get for watching i need u/prologue/run right before bed.


End file.
